


Blood and Fangs

by NoisyBird



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Kind of steampunk, Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood Magic, Mild Blood, and sleeping, crackfic, direwolves, i guess, i wrote this instead of working
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 15:15:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16349129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoisyBird/pseuds/NoisyBird
Summary: Robb Stark is a fresher in a magic university. He more or less ends up with blood magic as one of his "discovery subjects" and has to put up with the teacher and his own failures. For now.Probably more plot to come, since I have a blurred idea of what will happen.The setting will probably have steampunk elements, though I have not yet decided how everything will work out (and honestly I may never decide completely and just keep it coherent).Also BLOOD MAGIC MEANS BLOOD, and may lead to harsh scenes later. Also I don't know yet but it may become steamy. I'll update to Explicit at some point, but please, if you have any problems with violence, unbalanced power, blood description and such, avoid this fic.That being said, hope you'll enjoy.





	Blood and Fangs

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. I wrote that in less than three days while having to meet deadlines for a report (not even finished yet) and continue The Claw, The Blade and the Antler.   
> I have no excuses and needed to take my mind away from a difficult chapter while still writing something. So here we are. I'm not even posting an update time because I do still intend to finish tCtBtA someday.  
> So this one is completely for fun (tCtBtA is but I try to work on some things in it as well) and it may not be completely coherent in terms of universe, and sanity, and politically correct (though I'm a very gentle writer so my worst thing will probably be some awful relationships with terrible power balances - pretty common on Ao3 - that will get better later, maybe).

Robb failed to activate the bloody pentacle, again. He sighed, quickly shot a glance around the room. Only a few of his peers were trying to bring the ritual to completion. The others were stuck with shining and sharp blood inscriptions, holding the cut that was pulsing on their arm. Some were pale, almost ready to faint. A part was preparing a tournament of pain-contorted faces. 

And his pentacle was becoming darker and darker as the blood - his own fluids - dried.

 

Blood magic was harsh. Painful. Robb, when taking the subject, had accepted that point. After all, he pushed himself in sports and raised a direwolf. Nasty injuries were not unknown to him. He could withstand a certain degree of suffering. Especially since the blood magic was one of his subminors. He would practice it one year, not enough to get to the part that was really approaching torture. 

In the meantime, he damned the policy of the coven university. The latter consisted, during the first year, in gaining general knowledge about magic. Meaning the students had compulsory lectures as well as the obligation to choose several more subjects.

Hence Robb was stuck on blood magic. And failed spectacularly. Indeed, he couldn’t even reach the point were the pain appeared. He couldn’t even start one of those fucked up rituals. His drawing, casting and ingredients were on point. Yet, deep down he knew that this magic was destined to hurt people. Oh sure, it contained strong protection spells, bindings and a few invocations. But the main features of the pain power was the transmission of energy and feelings. It was manipulative and didn’t feel right. Since the activation of a ritual was based on the deep ingrained will of the sorcerer and that deep down, Robb wasn’t at all at ease with the use of this particular magic, it was no surprise he couldn’t succeed.

He was quickly calculating how much he would have to get in his prefered courses - enchantments, elemental defenses and animal link - to save him from the foreshadowing catastrophe. The paper part would be fine - hell, engraving tiny runes on every type of material had taught him rigor - but the practical part, the three quarters of the final grade, would end too quickly. 

As the rustle of chairs and papers filled the room, he shrugged of his concerns. After lunch he would learn about animal linking, his long time favorite power. This one he had grasped since he had been in high school, through his strong binds to Grey Wind. He was a natural, the second one of his siblings - his youngest brother Rickon being the first - to be the more at ease with his direwolf.

 

His thoughts were pleasantly drifting about his furry brother when, at the exit of the room, he had to make a quick swerve to avoid charging into a torso. Robb lifted his head, ready to apologise.

Eyes of ice.

He almost stumbled. He was face to face with M. Bolton, the blood magic teacher, feared by most of the students. The seniors had warned them, telling that his almost passive behavior would soon change into something severe, cold and unforgiving.

Robb studied him, curious. Caution had never been one of his strong points. He was slightly taller than the bland-faced professor. His shoulders were larger, also. All in one, the man didn’t seem that impressive.

Except for his eyes. Bolton’s stare was intense. As Robb finished his once over, he felt trapped by icy irises. Saying he was ill at ease would have been an euphemism. He felt his insides squirm.

The grey eyes of his wolf came across his blank mind. He had seen them become lethal at the apex of a hunt. Of course, the dead stare of Bolton was different. Yet, Robb had met his fill of unsettling looks. That’s why - his guts rolling a happy samba - he was able to apologise without stammering like a eight years old boy.

Bolton answered in a whisper.

“You’d better concentrate next time.”

Then he rejoined the desk, letting Robb near the door. The young Stark almost rolled his eyes. As if he wasn’t doing efforts !

 

* * *

He placed the candle silently. Then he cut his wrist properly, a clean wound that opened again the past one. The red fluid trickled down his pale northern skin. Blood magic users tended to wear long sleeves. However Robb didn’t intend to create a pattern of scars on his arm. One would do.

After the bowl was full, he quickly bandaged the cut and washed the red remains on his wrist. Better to avoid droplets falling and messing with the drawing.

Then he began to trace the lines. The pattern was slightly more complex than a simple pentacle. He got it right, his hand barely trembling. Robb checked one last time the whole arrangement. Then, he fixed the candle at the center of the ritual, letting the movements of the flame imprint in his eyes. His breathing deepened. He mentally pulled, strengthening his will. The fire barely flickered, no spark of energy ran through his body and he sighed, letting his back fall against the chair. He had failed again. 

A soft whisper came from behind.

“You’ll discuss with me at the end of the lecture.”

Suddenly, Robb, startled, turned his head, only to see the back of M. Bolton. The man was already walking down the rows, commenting sharply the others' work. His observations were more than often harsh. His true face was beginning to show.  


Robb would have traded any time a severe comment with a one on one talk with the man.

During the remaining minutes of the class, he waited, watching people blown candles, crush candles, burn candles. Lots faltered under the cold teacher’s criticism.

Almost all of them left a bit too quickly at the end of the lecture.

He stayed in front of his pentacle, the candle still burning bright, its wax coating slowly the table. He could hear the faint steps of M. Bolton, checking that no residual energy remained from the exercise. The student letting some would probably suffer a cold and disturbing stare next time.

Finally the steps stopped behind him. 

Bolton came to his right. Robb willed his eyes to fix the pentacle in front of him. He saw a white hand, all long fingers, one sporting a droplet of blood, coming into his field of vision.

The man put the pad of his digit on one of the red-brown lines, mixing their bloods together. 

The candle died.

Robb breathed, a sharp intake of air. He hadn’t been conscient of stopping his respiration. 

“Tell me, M. Stark, why it is that your ritual is so properly prepared that I can effectuate it with one drop of my blood, when you had half a bowl and couldn’t succeed ?”

The young man swallowed.

“I have no idea, sir.”

More steps. Bolton entered his field of vision completely, walking in the next row, his stare - grey, cold and intense - on him. He settled in front of Robb, on the other side of his table, the back of his hips resting against another desk. He crossed his arms, silent.

Robb let one minute pass. Then he half-stammered :

“Sir, can I… go ?”

“Did I say this talk was finished ?”

The young man wound his fist, half nervous, half angry, then relaxed it. The guy was strange and was not even really scolding him - yet. He prefered to be done with it. He willed his voice to be steady.

“I have an applied mathemagics lecture. It wouldn’t do well for me to be late and even worse to be absent.”

“Mrs. Glenvale is in charge of this class. I’ll talk to her.”

Robb sighed. The subject was a bitch to work on. He hated maths, them being magic or not - and magic was often worse because then you added a layer of possible misunderstanding to something convoluted enough - and them being qualified of applied - what a joke - or not.

“I would have to catch up, sir.”

The man slightly quirked an eyebrow.

“The first year’s mathemagics are not that complicated.”

“Except I’m not good at it.” 

And it was said. He did not want to fluke the subject completely, especially with the mess that blood magic would be.

“Then tell me why you think you don’t cast correctly.”

“I have really no idea.”

“Stop lying.”

Robb almost jumped. He wanted Bolton to get on with it and let him go. He had enough of candles and blood and evident failure. Maybe telling the man his subject was leading to manipulation and hurting people would be enough to get him angry.

“It’s just… I’m not made for that.”

Well, Robb. Awesome. What a blurred nonsensical statement.

“Details are highly required.”

“I… Blood magic is used to manipulate and the energy transmission is mainly cast to hurt people. Since its activation is based not only on the ritual’s preparation but also the will of the user, I can’t execute it properly.”

“So you do want to fail the subject ?”

Robb jumped out of his chair. He almost towered over the man, his back straight. And his pride deeply hurt. His next words were spoken out of anger, the wolf-him defiant and fierce.  


“I am saying that deep down I do not want to injure or manipulate others.”

“Then why choosing blood magic in first place ?”

“Because I didn’t know it would be a problem.”

“Go.”

Bolton walked away. Robb stayed petrified a half-second. Then he packed his things and almost ran out of the room. He checked his watch. Too late to go to Glenvale’s lecture. He retreated in the library, waiting for the next one and trying to solve mathemagics exercises. Robb ended up messing with his red-brown hair and scrunching his brows, nonsensical equations literally hoping all over his sheets. Looked like his frustration ran too deep and he had infused too much energy into the delicate formulas.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you are curious or liked what you read so far, please leave a comment so that I know on what I can work and what I need to continue doing ! Also if you have suggestions, since it's a full fun crackfic for me, post. I'll see if I can do something about it ;)  
> Thanks for every kudo and comment you may leave <3
> 
> If you want me to post some GoT fics in fucked up/messy AUs, and have a keyword or something, pray tell ! (I may intend to do a bit of SF or post apo at some point, and I can even work with tales - should be fun).
> 
> Have a nice day !


End file.
